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"Woe to him who does!" shouted the Canadian, "and you, Fabian, in heaven's name, retire!" "Yes, it is I, Fabian!" cried the Count, in a voice which drowned the thunder of the torrent and the cries of the hunters, "Fabian, who comes to avenge his mother's blood upon the infamous Don Antonio de Mediana!"
With regard to Tiburcio Arellanos, we need hardly state what the reader has no doubt already divined that this young man was in reality no other than Fabian, the last descendant of the Counts of Mediana. Cuchillo has already related how the English brig brought him to Guaymas.
Still kneeling on the ground, Pepe had closed his eyes, and a furtive tear, unperceived by his companions, stole from his eyes, and rolled down his bronzed cheeks. "Senor Don Fabian de Mediana!" cried he, starting up, "you are now a rich and powerful lord, for all this gold belongs to you alone."
In the distance a luminous vapour rested upon the mountains beyond which lay the Golden Valley. "Why?" repeated Don Estevan; "because there remains to me still an immense treasure and a vast kingdom to conquer." The eyes of Mediana sparkled with pride; then this expression passed away, and he fixed on the horizon a melancholy look.
"An assassin, perhaps!" replied Mediana, turning his back to Fabian to show that he did not wish to reply to his question. During the dialogue which had taken place between these two men of the same blood, and of equally unconquerable nature, the wood-rangers had remained at some distance.
"Ah!" said Bois-Rose, in a low voice, "I recognise Don Estevan, or rather Don Antonio de Mediana, who is at last in our power." "Don Antonio de Mediana! Is it possible? Are you sure?" cried Fabian. "It is he, I tell you." "Ah! now I see that it was the hand of God which brought me here. Shade of my mother, rejoice!" cried Fabian.
The revelations of Cuchillo in regard to the adopted son of Marcos Arellanos had opened his mind to a new set of ideas which absorbed all others. For certain motives, which we cannot here explain, he was seeking to divine whether this Tiburcio Arellanos was not the young Fabian de Mediana!
But perhaps in the eyes of a woman his pale and sickly appearance might render the young Count of Mediana still more handsome and interesting than was that of Tiburcio Arellanos. Would not that countenance, ennobled by toil and travel, remind Dona Rosarita of the love for which she had every reason to feel proud and happy?
"It will first be necessary to establish the identity of the criminal. Are you in truth," he continued, "that Don Antonio, whom men here call the Count de Mediana?" "No," replied the Spaniard in a firm voice. "Who are you then?" continued Fabian, in a mingled tone of astonishment and regret, for he repudiated the idea that a Mediana would have recourse to a cowardly subterfuge.
The generosity of Count de Mediana has left me enough to pass the remainder of my days in tranquillity. But I should pass them all the more happily if I could only see avenged the lady of my old master." "I approve of your sentiments, Senor Don Juan! you are doubly estimable on account of your sorrow, and as to your savings Notary!